


The Jewel Thief

by FromTheCosmos



Category: Dead by Daylight (Video Game)
Genre: AU, Angst, Cop AU, DBD, Dead by Daylight - Freeform, Enemies to Friends to Lovers, F/M, Fluff and Angst
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-11-08
Updated: 2018-11-08
Packaged: 2019-08-20 15:12:26
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,177
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16558127
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/FromTheCosmos/pseuds/FromTheCosmos
Summary: Max Thompson is fiercely good at being a police officer, and many would argue there isn't a single case that he can't solve. That is, until one woman named Claudette tears her way into the city, making a name for herself by pulling off flawless heists where she steals some of the most priceless jewels in New York. Max faces his most challenging case yet that leads him from dead end to dead end, and when he finally does come face to face with the infamous Jewel thief, his entire world comes crashing down around him.





	The Jewel Thief

Max Thompson had never really been good with people, so he supposed it was really no surprise when he stuck his key into the lock and stepped into his dark, empty apartment that nobody had wished him happy birthday all day long. He sighed, tossed his jacket over the back of his couch and plopped down onto it, leaning his head back and closing his eyes.

No, he had never been good with people, but in a way maybe that was his edge. There were no distractions. Nothing else to worry about. His mind on nothing but his job. The way it was meant to be.

Max had been a police officer for five years now, and he’d completely devoted his life to his work. Despite his faults, he had clawed and chewed his way into the New York police station and had easily become the best officer on the force save for the chief of police. He had the entire station convinced of his talents, but the chief wasn’t as easily swayed. He’d proved himself time and time again but the chief had never even given him a second glance. He’d even assigned the biggest celebrity murder in twenty years to someone who had been there three years less than him. Max didn’t have it in him to go and give the chief an ear full. He let the pile of solved cases on his superiors desk speak for itself.

Max slowly drug himself up from the couch and walked down the hall to the bathroom, switching on the light and turning on the faucet. He splashed some cool water onto his face and looked into the mirror, feeling the all too familiar cringe he always felt when he looked at his reflection. All the surgeries when he was a child had done as much as they could, but the deep scars and abnormalities that stretched across his face down to his right shoulder stood out like a neon sign to anyone he met. He’d even gotten some easy arrests become the criminals had frozen in shock at his appearance and had left themselves wide open for him to attack.

This was his edge. His tool. His burden.

This was the reason his apartment was empty.

He hated himself.

He looked away with a frown and rubbed his face with a towel. After a quick shower and a shave, he made his way to his kitchen and poured himself a glass of whiskey and retrieved the small chocolate cupcake that resided in his near empty fridge, sitting down at his creaky kitchen table and beginning to sort through the open case files that sat there. He doubted he would be able to get much sleep tonight, anyway. It was his birthday after all.

max sipped on his whiskey and mindlessly shoved forkfulls of cupcake into his mouth as he read over the notes and evidence from the cases assigned to him. They were all pretty typical. Missing persons, assaults, domestic violence, but there was one that really stood out to him. He set his glass of whiskey down and moved the folders to the side, revealing a bright shiny new manilla folder. This was odd, mostly because once folders go through the process of getting reported the folders get some wrinkles, a coffee stain or two, but this folder was pristine. Like someone had come and placed it on his table straight from the chief himself. Max doubted that was what happened, but his mind did tend to wander at the best of times. He carefully opened the folder and began scanning the reports immediately. There was so many. A break in at a nearby museum, a jewelry exhibit missing it’s crown jewel, an extremely rich family’s heirloom had been taken from it’s very intricate safe. The list goes on and on. There were no leads, nobody had so much as even seen the thief. He kept turning papers over until he stumbled upon an interesting report from an apparent whistle blower, but they had no way to verify what they’d said was true. The entire life of some woman that was the suspected thief was before him. They’d searched her home and found some black market lock picking tools and a lot of cash, but no woman. She’d disappeared without a trace. Much like the jewels she’d taken upon herself to steal.

At the corner of the paper was a small mug shot of this woman, taken when she’d been caught shoplifting a few years ago. She was African American and had soft black hair that hung wildly from it’s loose ponytail. It seems like it hadn’t been an easy arrest for the officers that had taken her in. She’d put up one hell of a fight. Her blue glasses hung crookedly from her nose and above that were two round brown eyes that shined with mischief. Maybe it was the whiskey talking, but Max had to admit that she was quite an attractive woman. At least, four years ago she was. He scanned the top of the file, wondering what her name was.

In small, neat font above her picture was the name Claudette Morel. She was twenty-two years old now. One year younger than him. So young to be getting herself wound up in all these kinds of crimes. It really was a shame.

Just then he heard a small knock on his door. He jumped in surprise, his head snapping to the door across the room. Who could that be? Max didn’t have any friends, therefore wasn’t expecting anyone, especially not at ten o’clock at night. He walked over to the door and peeked through the peep-hole. He couldn’t see anyone.

Max unlocked the bolt on the door and opened it slowly, peeking out into the hallway. A flash of white caught his eye. He looked down to see a small white box sitting on the floor outside of his door. He blinked at it, confused. He hadn’t ordered anything. What could this be? He knelt down and grabbed the box cautiously, looking up and down the hallway before retreating back into his apartment and closing the door behind him, taking a second to make sure it was locked.

He placed the box on his table and wondered if he should open it. It could be dangerous. Maybe it was some kind of bomb?

He shook his head. He had no enemies. Barely anyone even knew he existed, so he severely doubted that this was anything out of the ordinary. He must have gotten the neighbors package by mistake. That had to be it. Out of curiosity, he grabbed the lid of the box and pulled it open carefully, taking a peek inside.

He stepped back, staring at the contents of the box in confusion. This had to be a mistake. He didn’t have any friends.

Sitting inside of the box was a homemade chocolate cake with pristine vanilla icing written with care on top in pretty cursive letters:

_**“Happy Birthday, Max~”** _


End file.
